Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus
by freshface
Summary: No one knew the exact story behind the Hogwarts motto, not even the girl who knew "Hogwarts: A History" by heart! When Hermione is given a family heirloom, she gets thrust into an adventure surrounding the mystery of Hogwarts with the only other person who memorized the book as well: a young (and handsome) Tom Marvolo Riddle.
1. 1: Dream On

**Author's Note: **I couldn't get enough of reading Hermione and Tom, so I've decided to write my very own. I hope you guys enjoy this one. This is going to be a bit complicated and confusing. It's going to be a little different from what I usually write, but I hope that isn't a bad thing.

This is also obviously AU, and I will try to keep everyone in character. It takes place roughly in the middle of _Half-Blood Prince_.

**Disclaimer: **This is a fanfiction website. Do I even need to bother? I also don't own the lyrics I use as inspiration for chapters.

**Summary: **No one really knows the mystery behind the school's motto, even the girl whose read _Hogwarts: A History_ from cover-to-cover more times than she can count. Once she comes into the possession of a family heirloom, Hermione is hurled into an adventure with the only other person who is just as enamored with the school as she is: a young Tom Marvolo Riddle.

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Dream On**

"_Dream on,  
__Dream until your dreams come true"_

_- Steven Tyler ("Dream On" by Aerosmith, 1973)_

* * *

_30 December 1996_

"Grandmother, are you sure you can climb up here?" a curly-haired brunette called out as she climbed off the highest rung into the attic. "What with your-"

To the girl's disbelief, her frail-looking grandmother climbed the ladder with ease.

"Just because your grandmother has a high possibility of developing Alzheimer's doesn't mean she lost her independence and mobility completely," the elderly woman scolded. "It's a disease of the mind, child. I may forget what I came up here for, but that's why you're here to remind me, Hermione."

The girl giggled at her grandmother's headstrong statement. She secretly admired her grandmother and hoped that someday she would grow to be as strong and witty as her father's mother.

"Grandmother, we're here in the attic to get your prized possessions before you move in with us," Hermione explained as she held out a hand to her grandmother. Pulling her grandmother off the highest rung proved to be an easy feat. The elderly woman could still keep her balance, despite her sixty-five-year-old body.

"Mmm..." the grandmother thought aloud as her brown eyes scoured the dusty attic for her treasured trinkets. Her quick scan stopped at a sliver of silver hidden behind a tattered cloth atop an antique coffee table. "Ah, there's something I wanted to give you, darling. Come over here quick, before I forget and the memory dies with my condition."

"What is it, grandmother?" Hermione quickly turned around to face her grandmother. She had gotten sidetracked by a pile of books on the other side of the small storage space.

"You're quicker than me darling. Could you get that small, silver box over there on that coffee table?" the older woman pointed to the trinket. Hermione followed her grandmother's directions and took hold of the ancient container.

She could tell that just by the looks that this miniature chest was one of the prized antiques of the Granger family, that dated all the way back to the tenth century. For a time, she had begged her father to tell her the story of their family's past as a bedtime ritual when she was still attending primary school. She knew the history of the Granger family by heart.

In the story, her father had described one of their oldest ancestors, Thomas Granger. He was a peasant who took care of a farm in Scotland. He fell in love and eloped with Lady Helen, a lord's daughter who was already betrothed to someone else. Unfortunately, Helen died during childbirth. While most men around that time period were incapable of raising children by themselves, Thomas kept little Henry and reared him.

There were times that Thomas had difficulty keeping Henry in line, as Henry was apt to getting into trouble as a young boy. Henry was growing quickly, and he bore many similarities to his deceased mother. Thomas, who was still grieving over Helen's death, often blamed Henry for taking away the love of his life, even if he never voiced it to his child.

When Henry was about five years old, Thomas began to have thoughts of suicide to join his wife in the afterlife. He was having trouble maintaining income because of a drought that had taken over the village. He could barely bring enough food for Henry to eat, and even less for himself. It was as if the gods above listened to him, for a mysterious chest appeared in the small barn the very next day.

The chest contained endless amounts of gold, a silver tin, and a letter addressed to him personally that said, "Treasure life, and life will grant you treasures." Thomas, even though he was a farm boy that lacked the education his wife had, knew the fortune he had stumbled upon was from Helen's wealthy family. With that knowledge, he used the money wisely and brought the Granger family from rags to riches.

It was the one story that her father told her whenever she was feeling down from being made fun of at school by her peers. As Hermione grew older, more of the details that may have been inappropriate to tell to a young girl were revealed. She just never thought that she'd ever see the famed silver tin that Thomas Granger received many years ago.

"Is this the same silver tin that...?" Hermione was speechless as her fingers caressed the intricate design of the container. Her skeptical, adolescent mind thought that the story was some fable that her father designed to make her feel better. She thought her favorite bedtime story had been a myth all along, but to see the silver tin granted the story some substance, a connection to reality.

Then again, Hermione never realized she would be a witch either.

"Yes, that's the same old..." Grandma Granger stopped when she saw Hermione open the box without any trouble. "Why no one has ever been able to open that box! Not even with the tools, explosives, or _anything_. When I told your father the story, he had tried so hard, but luck didn't come his way. Not even Thomas himself could open it."

The inside of the box was lined with blue velvet. Hermione lifted its contents so her grandmother could also see them. It encased a beautiful necklace made of white gold, with a white gold snake surrounding a pearl drop pendant.

For a bookworm like Hermione, that wasn't the object that she was enamored with. The tin also contained a small diary with aged, yellow pages. The cursive words were too scrambled to make sense out of, as if someone had written in a code so that only they themselves could understand it. This only made the book too enticing for Hermione to put down, as she swore she would eventually uncover the contents of the journal.

Grandma Granger wasn't even paying attention to the never-before-seen objects anymore. She was much too satisfied seeing her granddaughter's eyes, honey eyes identical to her own, light up in wonder. It was a rare time for Georgina to bond with Hermione, because her granddaughter spent most of her time up in that boarding school in the middle of nowhere.

She wanted to capture this moment before her dementia would take over her brain.

"I want you to keep it, Hermione," the older woman spoke.

Hermione gasped as her attention focused on her grandmother. "But, grandmother, this is yours! I can't keep something as valuable as this and-"

Her grandmother interrupted her by saying, "If these are mine, then I would still choose to give it to you, Hermione. It's not often that a dying grandmother gets to see her beautiful granddaughter smile, especially when she's a moody teenager."

Hermione set aside the trinkets and pulled her grandmother in a loving embrace. "Granny Gina, don't say that. You're not going to die. Father will never let you, especially when you're in his care," the granddaughter reassured her.

Georgina cackled in response to her granddaughter's words. "There isn't much that anyone can do to save my condition, Hermione. Your father specializes in saving smiles, not saving one's brain from deteriorating," Georgina explained, "All I want is to treasure my last moments with my family. Couldn't you give me that?"

The brunette let out a sigh and loosened her embrace. The silver-haired woman ruffled her granddaughter's tresses. "Besides, Hermione, I don't care about some silly piece of jewelry that could be worth a million pounds. You and your father are the only treasures I care to have. You know where the family motto comes from, yes?"

Hermione nodded obediently as a clear memory of her father whispering to her as he tucked her nine-year-old self in bed.

"Thomas Granger could've easily squandered the money he received, but he chose to be modest with his newfound wealth. Do you know why he chose this path instead of purchasing himself a royal title?" Grandma Granger questioned as her osteoporotic fingers combed through her granddaughter's hair.

The brunette shrugged. She'd never heard her grandmother tell the story, so she never heard it from a different point-of-view.

"The letter was not talking of the chest of gold that he received, but life itself. The real treasure the legend talks about is his child, the gift of life and being able to pass it on," Grandma Granger continued to explain. "Thomas did everything he could to give Henry the life he deserved, the life Helen had given up in order for her son to live. Henry would do the same for his children, and the tradition passed on. I probably won't be able to live for that day, but you'll be able to tell your children about the family motto."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue with her grandmother again for mentioning death, but decided against it. Her grandmother talked about death like it was just around the corner, but the doctor said she would survive at most another twenty years.

By then, she hoped her children would be able to meet their great-grandmother, to meet one of the few inspirations Hermione had as a child. Georgina Granger, a mother who was widowed only a year after marriage, managed to raise her only son and take over the family's flourishing farming business without any prior education.

Georgina pulled her granddaughter into another tender embrace, and whispered into her granddaughter's hair, "Don't be sad when I die, darling. Remember to always treasure life, and life will grant you treasures."

Hermione returned the embrace as tears flowed down her cheeks.

* * *

_31 December 1996_

Some kind of treasure! This book was infuriating! She was pretty sure the person who sent Thomas Granger the money did this to dangle it over his nose and tease him, because he simply couldn't understand the message they sent.

In fact, according to her grandmother, Thomas himself couldn't even open the silver box. Why was she the only one who could?

She thought it was because she had magic, that she was a witch. It was the only thing about her that made her different from the rest of her family. The only problem was that it wouldn't make sense because her family was all muggle.

Hermione fingered the pearl pendant around her neck and let out a sigh. She looked out the window to see fireworks bursting, coloring the dark evening sky with flashes of green and blue, yellow and red. Instead of celebrating New Year's Eve on the streets of London, Hermione was on house arrest due to a flu she had developed earlier in the day.

The teenager let out a sigh and fumbled through the pages again. She was quite thankful that her flu gave her a reason to lock herself up in her room for hours, so that she could figure out the meaning behind the jibberish written down. If only this cursed diary would make sense, then she would be satisfied.

"That's it!" the brainiac mumbled to herself as she snatched her wand. Even if her family was all muggle, it didn't mean that they didn't come into contact with witches and wizards themselves. Maybe if she performed some spells on the journal, she would be able to read it.

With a renewed fervor, the girl snatched her vine wand from her bedside table.

"_Specialis revelio,_" Hermione performed the charm, but nothing seemed to happen. There was no tell-tale glow to show the magical properties of the diary. She had used this same spell with that damned Potions book that Harry kept to his side like glue.

"_Finite incantatem_," Hermione chanted. Still no results.

With a growl of frustration, Hermione burrowed herself inside her lavender duvet. When she used those words, she let out another groan as her thoughts transferred to her lack of a romantic life. Stupid Lavender and stupid Ron. She decided to skip out on staying at the Burrow this year because of that redheaded good-for-nothing dunce that...

The effects of the medicine she had taken an hour ago were steadily taking over her system. Not even her anger at Ron could fight her exhaustion. The drowsiness weakened her eyelids and made her body yearn for that rest that would help her heal.

Once her honey eyes drooped to a close, Hermione would fail to notice the tell-tale glow of magic that emitted from the necklace and the diary. She would also never notice the same glow erupt around her body as her mind drifted into unconsciousness.

* * *

_Hermione opened her eyes to find herself face-to-face with a dark, curly-haired man with harsh, but handsome features. She also noticed that both of them lacked clothing, and this man had her locked in a lover's embrace._

_She did not remember going to bed with anyone. As a girl raised in an old-fashioned household, she was not content to find herself in this position with a total stranger._

"_You're awake," the deep gruff came from the man besides her. His eyes didn't open, but the man pulled her closer to prove to her. "Let's stay in bed the whole day and let those children teach themselves."_

_To Hermione's surprise, the man started to caress her pulse-point with his lips and tongue, his light stubble tickling her sensitive neck. Her instant reaction was to pull the strange man closer, despite her mind telling her not to do so. She could tell where this was going when she felt something hard poke against her stomach._

_This had to be some kind of dream. She hardly recognized her surroundings, and she had no inkling of who she was in bed with._

_All of a sudden, the man climbed over her and settled himself between her legs. His rough and callous hands caressed the silver necklace before making its way to move a stray curl from her face. His eyes trapped hers in an intense gaze, one that she could melt into if she didn't let pleasure take over her brain. This gave her a moment to admire her handsome companion, but still not recognize his features._

"_Do you know what this pendant stands for, love?" his voice sounded like butter as he transferred his attention back to her neck. Hermione could feel her mind surrendering control to his seduction._

_His breath against her pulse-point caused her to shiver in response. Her hands automatically clawed themselves onto his body, one in his dark, wavy locks and the other on his body._

"_You're my most prized pearl, the most precious thing in my life," his tongue slithered against her neck, which earned a moan of pleasure from her._

_Then he reached up so he could whisper lovingly in her ear, "I would never give you up. Not for that stupid knight, not for your high-class family. You're mine, and I'm yours."_

_At this, the man pushed himself into her. The sensation slightly startled Hermione, but her body welcomed him whole. Then, she could feel the familiar drop from her dream, the one that would bring her back to reality, for she knew this moment couldn't be real._

* * *

Hermione gasped as her eyes shot open. She's never had such a vivid dream about a stranger before, but she figured it must be because of the drugs she had taken.

She woke up and everything seemed to be just the way she left it: a wand in her right hand, the blasted diary on her left, and another masculine arm wrapped around her.

She has got to stop having these stupid dreams. Just because of her failed love life with Ron, her mind was reeling with fantasies of late-night romps with handsome strangers.

It was then that she noticed her pale purple bedsheets were replaced with starch white ones. She didn't know if she was glad or disappointed to note that the sheets weren't made of blue silk either.

Hermione quickly let go of the objects and pinched herself as if to wake up, but nothing happened.

Her spooning partner pulled her small frame closer against his. This time, Hermione was fortunate to realize that both her and this stranger were fully clothed, or as clothed as one would be before going to bed. She was dressed in her favorite flowing nightdress that ended mid-thigh, and he, in a comfortable pair of boxers. It wasn't nice to know that the back of her body was flush against another stranger's body.

Hermione quickly twisted around in his loose embrace to find herself staring at a face she only recognized from old newspaper clippings and _Hogwarts: A History_. This same face was staring back at her, as equally confused as she was.

Then, his tantalizing green gaze moved downwards to focus on her lips, appreciate her slight cleavage, and then glare at the jewelry around her neck. She wasn't happy with being leered at by a young dark lord, especially this one in particular.

"Give me that necklace," a teenage Tom Riddle demanded her, his eyes darkening when he noticed that she wasn't obeying his instructions. "It belongs to me."

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading and please review!


	2. 2: The Natural World

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, or the lyrics inspired for this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 2 - The Natural World**

"_I don't know enough about you  
__To be kind, to be kind to you  
__Don't you even think about me  
__Just forget, what you think you've seen"_

- CYMBALS

* * *

_31 December 1944_

In Hogwarts, Tom Riddle was the golden boy. He was brains, brawn, and beauty all in one. He had girls fawning over him, boys wishing they were him, and professors eating out of the palm of his hand. All of this equaled to a tremendous amount of influence over the majority of the population of Hogwarts, which meant he always got what he wanted.

He made it look like he never lifted a finger, but it took a lot of work to become the way he was. Even then, the things he wanted most were always out of his grasp.

That was the reason why Tom hated Wool's Orphanage. Here, he was treated like he was the scum at the bottom of scuffed shoes. The other kids started bullying him for reasons he didn't know. The one time he fought back, Mrs Cole caught him and punished him by only allowing him one meal per day, locking him up in this room, taking away any means of recreation, and giving him chores that were impossible to finish in the time she allotted for him. It didn't help that Dumbledore took away his wand as a precaution.

Even during his first few years at Hogwarts, Tom struggled to fit in. He was the nerd who only wore second-hand clothes, and he wasn't born and bred in the pureblood society that his other Slytherins peers talked so much of. It was when he discovered his true ancestry that Tom got the power he craved.

To Tom's understanding, knowledge was power. Knowledge only increased with the amount of time, and to have endless amounts of time was to be immortal. Immortality was the ultimate power for him, and in order to achieve that, he would create horcruxes, but only use objects that were worthy of the stamp of his precious soul on them. This was why Tom had to go to great lengths to get only the most precious heirlooms of Hogwarts, to keep himself always attached to the only place he ever called home.

This was why when Slytherin's necklace appeared before his eyes, on his birthday, he knew it had to be too good to be true.

It wasn't one of Slytherin's documented items, like the locket or the ring around his finger, but Tom was certain that the necklace in front of him was the real thing. Ever since he had acquired the ring, he'd been having visions of himself in a young Salazar's body making love to a honey-eyed temptress moaning against blue silk, with the necklace clasped around her slender neck.

The mark of the snake was an obvious emblem for the Parselmouth. In his dreams, the necklace emanated a powerful and protective magic aura, an aura that just reeked of Slytherin's magical essence. Tom wanted to study it, test all its magical properties, and tie the object to his soul.

Tom's patience was wearing thin when the girl didn't move to take off the necklace, even if he commanded her to. She probably wasn't even listening to him, which angered him even more. In order to gain her trust, he needed to up the 'golden boy' act.

"You should really return objects you have stolen," he urged her by using the velvety, persuasive tone that won over the many ladies at Hogwarts. "It is just the right thing to do, as it certainly doesn't belong to you."

He reached over to grab the necklace slowly. The girl immediately stiffened when she felt Tom's fingers tickle the nape of her neck. Her eyes widened and she inhaled deeply, like she was scared.

Tom was taken aback by the familiarity of those eyes. This mysterious girl in front of him had the same eyes as the woman in his dreams, but they were more beautiful in reality. In just the right angle in the moonlight, there were flecks of gold, of fire. Her facial features were different from the woman in his dreams, but Tom knew he preferred the rounded out face of the girl in front of him rather than the woman in blue silk.

He must've been too distracted with her eyes, because she had successfully kicked him to the tile floor of his prison cell in Wool's. Her movements were hasty as she picked up a tattered book from the other side of the bed and pointed her wand at him.

"You... you can't be real. This can't be real," she spoke to herself, but loud enough so that he could hear her clearly. "I was just in my bed and I had a dream... this can't be real. I need to wake up." She was shaking her head and pinching herself constantly. At this rate, she was definitely going to pass out from a panic attack.

Despite the slight pain from his fall, he was feeling almost entirely too amused with the situation before him. The girl thought this was all part of a dream.

Her forearm was quickly turning into a painful red as she continued to pinch it. The pinching wasn't really taking her anywhere, because Tom knew this was reality at its finest.

"You're supposed to be..." She wasn't able to finish her sentence because she eventually passed out. Tom quickly wandlessly levitated a pillow to cushion her fall.

He couldn't have let her brain get damaged. She talked about him like she knew who he was, but he couldn't recall ever meeting her in his life. There was information he wanted to know, and wouldn't know until she was conscious.

The thundering of footsteps from the corridor alerted Tom that company was coming soon. Her sudden appearance had to create a lot of commotion if it managed to wake the other children up. He had to hide her belongings from public view, for future blackmail use and where she came from. The birthday boy quickly walked over to her unconscious body and stashed her objects in his white bedsheets.

Then came the moment he'd been waiting for. He needed that necklace, and now he could get it without a fight.

He crouched over her and took the delicate silver chain in his fingers. The necklace was violently warm from being against the girl's feverish neck. The magical aura that he had sensed in his dreams was even stronger in reality, and he could feel the power pulsing between his fingertips.

Tom couldn't admire the object longer because the stomps outside were becoming louder. He could even hear Mrs Cole's voice arguing with a younger male voice that Tom quickly recognized as belonging to the bane of his existence: Billy Stubbs. Tom needed to hurry up.

When he twisted the silver chain around her neck, Tom still couldn't find a clasp to undo the necklace. It was then that he realized that the clasp had disappeared. This necklace was stuck on this mysterious girl. Tugging on it wouldn't help either.

Before he could use her wand to attempt to remove the valuable jewelry from around her neck, the door slammed open to reveal an exhausted looking Mrs Cole with an overenthusiastic Billy Stubbs by her side.

"Riddle! What in God's were you thinking when you decided to wake up the whole..." the matron's voice trailed off when she noticed the unconscious girl by Tom's side. The color drained from Mrs Cole's face as she dashed over to the girl's body.

"He must've been trying to kill her, Mrs Cole. He's a cold-blooded killer who doesn't know any better. A smarter person would've caused less commotion, but this is Tom Riddle," Billy Stubbs concluded and stabbed Tom's ego in the process. The blond boy smirked at Tom. His grin grew wider when he saw Tom scowl.

Mrs Cole nudged Tom aside and placed two fingers near the girl's neck. "Quiet, Billy. Riddle isn't the problem here. The girl has a high fever. I need you to tell Amy to make soup in the kitchen and get me a cold, wet towel," the matron commanded. Billy followed orders like the suck-up he was. This left Tom with the girl and Mrs Cole.

He felt much smaller when he was subject under Mrs Cole's calculating gaze. It was like he was a five-year-old again, when Mrs Cole often reprimanded him for hurting the other children. She didn't even bother to listen to his side of the story, or that they had been the ones to hurt him first.

She wasn't even going to listen to his reasons for the girl's presence. He knew if he told the truth, Mrs Cole was never going to believe him. The world of magic threatened the principles of religious people like Mrs Cole.

"Please carry the girl to your bed. She's shivering," the older woman demanded as she righted her dressing robe. She turned to the window to gaze at the stars. "I've already learned not to ask when it comes to you, Riddle, because the Lord knows what evils you've been up to. The window is locked from the outside, so I cannot imagine how you brought her here. I'm just thankful that the Lord has granted this girl the gift of life after all you did to her."

Tom took advantage of the Mrs Cole's lack of focus on him to stash the girl's wand and the tattered book in the pocket of his boxers. He then lifted the girl from the floor and onto his bed. She was deadweight, but it wasn't that difficult for him to carry her. Then, he placed the white sheets over her petite frame and then placed the pillow underneath her head.

Her beautiful face was scrunched up in pain. He imagined that she had a throbbing headache, as one was accustomed to having when under the influence of a fever.

It was the first time he felt an ache in his chest whenever someone was in pain. Before he realized what he was doing, he rubbed her forehead gently, as if to reassure her that she was fine. It was then that he saw her smile, though her eyes were closed, and her head leaned in to his gentle touch.

Mrs Cole cleared her throat to gain Tom's attention. Tom pivoted his head around to face the older woman.

"She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?" Mrs Cole asked. At her words, Tom immediately pulled away his hands as if the girl had a plague. Mrs Cole's usually cold eyes glistened when she saw Tom's actions. That was when Billy returned with Amy Benson, an annoying redhead who helped out in the kitchens.

Mrs Cole put her authoritative mask on and straightened out her posture. "Wherever you got her and whatever you did to her, you have to be thankful that she's still alive. Your punishment is to pray in the chapel and repent for your sins. Billy, make sure that Riddle does as I say," the matron instructed as she summoned the other two to come over to her. "Now you boys go and leave. I'll take care of the girl from here."

Tom made his leave not even waiting for Billy, a burly seventeen-year-old boy who had been at Wool's just as long as Tom had. He could hear Billy grumbling behind him, probably annoyed with the fact that he had to be near his archenemy.

"You should be walking towards the chapel and praying for repentance," Billy's gruff voice echoed through the empty corridor. "You should feel horrible for what you did to that girl."

Tom suddenly pivoted around to face Billy, which caused Billy's burly body to crash into his. Tom's anger provided him strength, for he didn't falter from the sudden impact.

"Tell me," he started, with a tone that was condescending. "How does one get a girl into his room when one is locked in? And how does one give a girl a fever when one doesn't have one themselves? Do you understand how flawed your logic is?"

Billy just shoved the taller, darker-haired boy, but failed to hurt Tom. "You think because you go to some fancy-schmancy boarding school that you're better and smarter than the rest of us?" The blond was nearly yelling now and completely disregarding the other sleeping orphans around him. "You're a creep. You make creepy things happen."

Tom resisted the enticing idea of using the girl's wand against Billy. He knew Dumbledore had set some kind of sensor charm that would detect if Tom used magic in the orphanage. If the headmaster found out, Tom was sure to be expelled.

Instead, he could just anger him by the mention of the Billy's pet rabbit he mutilated many years ago. "You mean, like what happened to your precious Peter? How unoriginal, to steal a name from a children's bedtime story."

Billy roared in frustration and stomped his foot. "Mrs Cole was right. You are the devil. You were going to use her as some human sacrifice or something," Billy spat in disgust. "It would be useless for you to go to the chapel, because the Lord will never forgive you for your sins. The girl needs more protection from you."

Then, Billy turned away from Tom so he could return back to Tom's room. Tom's smirk grew even wider when he saw that his goal had been accomplished. Billy or Mrs Cole would be too preoccupied with taking care of that girl, so he would be left alone for a good amount of time. He reached inside the pocket of his boxers to hold the girl's worn pocketbook.

Her pocketbook was bound to have some answers, if not, a form of blackmail. Tom was just a little disgruntled with the idea that it would take a whole lot more than necessary to get a simple necklace that was rightfully his from the start.

* * *

_1 January 1945_

Tom noticed that the girl behaved differently than the others. While girls like Amy Benson reveled in the attention that Billy gave, this girl was cringing as Stubbs showed off his muscles. Amy, seated at the blond's other side, was swooning as Stubbs talked about his workout routine.

When Billy noticed Tom across the room, his brown eyes lit up mischievously. Billy hastily grabbed the mysterious brunette's arm and dragged her over to where Tom was seated. Tom could see the two from his peripheral vision, but acted like the periodical in his hands was more important than their presence.

"Apologize to Hermione," the blond commanded as he shoved the brunette in front of him.

Tom gazed at the mysterious girl from last night. She was now dressed in the orphanage's cotton uniform that was two sizes too big, which Tom was disappointed to note. He rather liked her skimpy little nightdress that accentuated her feminine figure. Her skin wasn't as pale as it had been last night, and the bottom of her button nose was tinged with red. It appeared she was recovering from her illness.

The brunette tried to turn around to return to the other table, but Billy forced her to face Tom. She sighed, and then told Tom, "It's not necessary for you to apologize-"

Billy interrupted her and said, "She's expecting an apology, Riddle."

Tom schooled his face to show no emotion when he turned to focus on the two of them. "I don't believe I have anything to apologize for," Tom stated and offered the two of them an innocent smile. "She said so herself."

When Billy saw that Tom wasn't going to follow his orders, he took matters into his own hands. The blond slammed an unoccupied chair to the floor and stomped closer to Tom. He grabbed Tom by his collar and lifted the dark-haired boy to a standing position.

"You give Hermione an apology, or else!" Billy yelled as he lifted his other fist threateningly to punch Tom. In his peripheral vision, the brunette named Hermione was tugging on Billy's sleeve.

"Aren't you going to listen to the lady who is asking for your attention? Or did I forget that you were too infatuated with your voice to listen to others?" Tom goaded the blond. This was enough to incense Billy's anger, so Billy punched Tom's nose.

"Billy!" the girl shrieked as she violently tugged on the blond's sleeve.

Billy just ignored the girl as he prepared to give Tom a black eye. Before he could do it, Tom could feel someone shove themselves between the bully and himself. It was the brunette. Billy was not prepared for the change of positions and was about to hit the girl himself, but she managed to dodge his fist and punch him with her own.

There was dead silence in the cafeteria when they heard the familiar crack of a broken nose. It appears that they have garnered the attention of everyone in the room. Well, it was unheard of in this century to see a pretty girl deliver a punch, and a successful one at that.

"I don't appreciate being spoken for when I can speak for myself," she told Billy, and then she helped Tom up from his seat. Then, she proceeded to drag him out of the cafeteria with her.

Tom's grin grew wider when he saw that Billy looked like a miserable puppy who had his toy taken away. This girl was definitely more of a novelty than Tom thought.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm a little confused about this chapter. I've been stuck in bed and drugged up on meds for the past three weeks and I was just hospitalized for over-exertion, so I truly apologize if this chapter seems half-assed. I've rewritten it like five times because I didn't like how the directions were headed. It's extremely difficult to try to characterize Tom Riddle, but I wanted to alternate the focus between Hermione and Tom for each chapter.

Also, this is not a fic against religion. I'm a religious person myself, so I don't mean religion any harm. I just needed it to paint a picture of Riddle.

Anyways, I'd still like to hear about what you guys think, whether good or bad. I try to reply as soon as I can. Thanks for sticking around for this chapter, and please review!


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